"And there are others, too," she cried, making no effort to control her convulsive sobs. "There are others which I didn't dare even to let him see."
For a moment he let her weep without seeking to arrest her tears.
"Are you sure this will be a lesson to you?" he asked at last. "Will you be careful—very careful from this time?"
"Oh, I'll never spend a penny again. I'll stay in Botetourt forever," she promised desperately, eager to retrieve the immediate instant by the pledge of a more or less uncertain future.
"Then we must help you," he said. "Among us all—Uncle Richard, your mother and I—it will surely be possible."
Pacified at once by his assurance, she sat down again and dried her eyes in her muff.
"It seems a thousand years since I went away," she observed, glancing about her for the first time. "Nothing is changed and yet everything appears to be different."
"And are you different also?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm older and I've seen a great deal more," she responded, with a laugh which came almost as a shock to him after her recent tears, "but I still want to go everywhere and have everything just as I used to."
"But I thought you were determined to stay in Botetourt for the future?" he suggested.